5 days. 17 emails. I have a stalker. And validation.

I have a stalker. And I have to say I feel pretty good about it. Nothing like a stalker to fix up the old ego. I’ve never really had any out-of-line unwanted male attention except for in Cancun, and everyone knows that doesn’t count. I’ve always been a bit offended that I’ve never been raped. No uncle has ever tried to fondle me. Am I not fondle-worthy, uncles? Now I finally have the validation I need. I’ve got myself a stalker. My ego, Lawrence, can now bask in the uncomfortable attention.

I met him in line for a $5 footlong. I guess even stalkers need a good lunch deal and/or want in on a rare weightloss plan that includes bread and mayo.

“You look like a hot nerd,” the soon-to-be stalker said as he saddled up beside me.
I laughed. What a good line. None of this Whole-Foods-complimenting-my-aura crap. Yeah. I’ll take hot nerd. I could be a hot nerd. Right?

I turned to see that this bold pick-up line sprang from the mouth of a wee youngen just barely able to buy his own beer. About 5 feet tall. Almost a teenager. And hanging out on The Promenade. [we all know how I feel about teenagers on the ‘Nade] Great. Fine. I’ll take it. Why not? An almost teenager thinks I’m a hot nerd. At least he’s not in line for an abortion. Progress.

Then he asked me to take him out to dinner. I chuckled and declined. But before I bid him adieu, I gave him my card. YES! I did. I gave him my card. Why? Because it only lists my name and blog, and I take any chance I can to let more people know about my blog. I know. I’m desperate. My insane narcissistic desire to have my writing be read by all has now bit me in the ass. For punishment, I am forcing myself to write ‘bit me in the ass’ instead of a more creative idiom.

Lesson #1 Don’t give your card out to men in line for a $5 footlong. Ever.

Lesson #2 Maybe you don’t need everyone to read your blog even if you secretly hope that all new acquaintances are related to some literary agent who’s dying to contract a blogger to write a new book franchise.

I was planning on posting the entire stalking exchange here. But now there is too much to post. 17 emails in 5 days. This does qualify as stalker, right? RIGHT?

Here is a selection of choice tidbits (Direct quotes. Please excuse the grammar):

“This place [no idea to what ‘this place’ refers. LA? Earth? His van?] is full of sex starved, males with little or no skills to really satisfy a woman sexually or emotionally. I should take these chumps to school, but I got better things to do… I’m latin so it’s my blood.”

“Are you going to fucking reply or should I just stop emailing you?”

“reply you arrogant white bitch.”

To which I DID reply (I don’t know why!) in Spanish: “Fuck off. Actually, I’m Hispanic. And I prefer not to speak with people like you.”

To which he replied: now we’re talking mami.

Then he must have read some of this here blog and found [this article]. Because he came at me with this one:

“you’re half spanish you fucking liar. you’re like a strawberry milkshake except you’re not very sweet. have a miserable day.”

And it got better:

“I think spain is great you guys have great people.. world cup champs, nadal, tour de fance champs, picasso, dali
but get off your high horse bitch cause the world will soon be dominated by the”peasants” … so be nice or I’ll tell my grandkids to make your grandkids clean toilets for a living.”

AND BETTER:

“I got bored so I read your blog.. like half a post at least. couldnt do more.
then i checked out your [professional advertising] site… so you’re the one to blame for the annoying art in jack and the box… I couldn’t figure out what the hell to do when I first got there.. just a big black box and your name..no click here or nothing – not very good marketing if you ask me.”

AND when I still refused to reply, I got this one:

Listen I’m sorry for being such a dick. I was wondering if maybe we could be friends?

Lesson #3 Stalkers can be hilarious. As long as they don’t know where you live. Hey wait, is that bush rustling out there?

Lesson #4 In the end, everyone just wants to be friends.

My plan was to post his email here and encourage all of us arrogant white folks to email the Latino for some sexual advice. But then I thought I might get arrested. And then I realized that the five people who read this blog don’t have time to send out emails to a random crazy, potentially inviting him to stalk them. So, I refrained. But, you know, if you’re bored or something, just email me and I can pass you that address. In the meantime, Lawrence and I are off to get some sleep. We can finally rest knowing that we’re worthy of stalkage.